


finnish house mafia

by matskreider



Series: tumblr prompts [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: (as is such the way for tumblr prompts to go), (it's different au's joined together by one ship), Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Mob, Daddy Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-01-25 06:42:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 5,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12525360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matskreider/pseuds/matskreider
Summary: a collection of pekka/juuse ficlets from my tumblr, crossposted here for ease of reading. each chapter marks out which au it belongs to, and i'll post them in clusters so like au chapters are next to each other. if there's a chronological way to read them, i'll indicate as such in the notes section





	1. star & student: hot chocolate

“I can’t believe you’re telling everyone you got in a fight,” Pekka says as Juuse climbs into the passenger seat.

Juuse freezes, looking over at Pekka with wide eyes - well, wide  _eye._ The bruising on his temple from where the puck had hit still twinged if he pushed it too much. “What? It’s almost the truth.”

“Juuse, look at you. Who would you even be fighting?”

The younger Finn wrinkles his nose as he frowns. “You don’t know my life, you don’t know the things I’ve seen, the things I’ve  _done.”_

Pekka rolls his eyes and backs out of the parking lot. “That may be true, but I do know how that bruise got there. PK and Fidds say they’re sorry, by the way.” 

“Eh, it’s not their fault. Puck had a weird bounce to it,” Juuse admits, shrugging. “It’s not like I’m concussed.” 

Pekka grimaces at that, wondering what would become of Juuse if he were to get concussed midway through his senior year of college. Poor kid would get set back,  _minimum._ Then again, Pekka didn’t know how American schools worked, other than that they were expensive and were bad at their jobs.

“But hey, I do know  _one_ way you could make it up to me.” 

Pekka knows he shouldn’t look over, not if he values getting back home safely, but he does. And even though he’s got a bruise that looks like a squished PB&J sandwich, Juuse’s looking at him like a begging child.

Which, is kind of what he is.

“Make me a hot chocolate?” 

“Juuse, I don’t have the right stuff for it, and I have a game tomorrow, I need sleep.” It’s not his fault that, through a series of unfortunate events, they were only able to get to a doctor later that afternoon, and then with media (and Pekka talking in circles to keep from answering probing questions about the young Finn from Vanderbilt), and getting  _food_ that it was now 9pm and they were only  _just_ heading back home.

“ _Pleeeease?”_

“I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I’m not making you a hot chocolate.”

“Pekka! I have a  _bruise_!” 

“How is hot chocolate supposed to help heal that?”

“Because, Daddy, it just does.” 

Pekka slams on the brakes to avoid going through a red light. “Juuse, wha-”

“Please, Daddy? I just want one, it’s not going to keep me up all night - unless that’s what you want,” Juuse purrs, reaching over the console. His fingers brush Pekka’s thigh, and the goaltender breathes a shaky sigh.

“You’re not going to stop until I make you one, are you.”

The look on Juuse’s face says it all. Pekka sighs and turns his blinker from right to left. 

Hot chocolate it is, then.


	2. star & student: bad matches

Winning every single game is impossible to do. It wouldn’t keep players humble and hungry, the ideal combination to seek greatness. It wouldn’t keep the hockey gods happy. It wouldn’t keep their stats looking interesting. **  
**

It would feel a hell of a lot better than losing, though.

Prior to Juuse, Pekka’s post-loss routine went something along these lines. Answer questions about the media, talking about how next time he can apply what he learned in this game against them later on in the season. Promise that they’d do better and no longer disappoint the great city of Nashville. Then go home and and drink a protein shake and sleep off the pain of losing. If away, do much the same thing, but in a hotel instead of the comforts of home.

Pekka didn’t realize just how lonely that was until he and Juuse became more serious.

He’d come home with Juuse in the car, if Juuse had been able to get to the game. If he hadn’t, he’d be in the kitchen, doing homework and waiting for him, the leftovers of dinner tucked away in the fridge.

Pekka would go upstairs to shower, wordless, rinsing off failure. And when he’d come back down, Juuse would be waiting for him, with unconditional forgiveness. Forgiveness for every bad bounce, every screen, every single thing that could be blamed on him. It all went away with Juuse in his arms.

Sometimes they’d watch TV, put on a movie just to fall asleep to. They’d sleep tangled up together, with Juuse tucked firmly against Pekka’s chest. And in the morning, Juuse would still be there. To pull the phone out of Pekka’s hand when he went looking for write ups about himself, to change the channel whenever analysts got too rough with regarding his play.

Juuse was there for Pekka.

Failure was a part of being a hockey player.

What Pekka had forgotten, was that it was also part of being a college student.

It’s rare that Juuse doesn’t do well in class. He wouldn’t have been able to been able to get into the school he wanted to had it not been for his dedication to his grades. But every once in awhile, failure comes a knocking.

Sometimes it’s in a class that he expected to have a struggle in, like any of his science classes. Or he’d have some essay that he left until the last minute, and as such, the quality suffered. It wasn’t that Juuse wasn’t a smart kid.

But it was because he’d been told that he was gifted for so long that he’d come to expect that high level of performance from himself at all times. Pekka could understand that, he supposed. So whenever Juuse had his own failures lying on him, Pekka did his best to support him.

Sometimes it was donning what could be best called a “disguise” - really a baseball hat and sunglasses - and heading to the cafe that Juuse liked to frequent for studying purposes, trying to lend support in what was, in all seriousness, a risky move for him. Sometimes it was letting Juuse stay the night; or, letting him stay at his own dorm if he needed time to decompress.

But it was the nights when Juuse texted Pekka to let him know that he wanted company, the nights that Juuse got to have Pekka in his arms, the nights that Juuse make sure that, even if his own grades weren’t good, that he still had a chance at a future - those were the nights that Pekka hoped for the most.

He had always been a hands-on learner. Learning how to heal and how to be healed was no different.


	3. star & student: vacation days

Pekka thinks it’s probably the moans that did him in. The fact that Juuse could so thoroughly be enjoying himself in something that Pekka has nothing to do with unnerves him a little. And it’s not like it’s Juuse’s fault, but really…

No one should be making the noises he’s making in public. Least of all because of ice cream.

“So good…” Juuse moans, squirming a little bit in his seat. Pekka knows that he’s not really doing anything wrong, and it is an excruciatingly hot day out, but why was he even tempted?

“If-“

Pekka’s interrupted by another little happy hum from the younger of the two. He rolls his eyes and continues, “If you love it so much, then why don’t you marry it?”

Juuse looks up at him just as he wraps his lips around the scoop on his cone, suckling a little to coax the coffee ice cream into his mouth. When he pulls off, he’s careful to lick around the edges, catching any resulting drips or unstable cone pieces. He locks eyes with Pekka while he does this, a challenge there.

He remains staring at Pekka with a raised eyebrow, before he wiggles his left ring finger at him. “Nuh uh. I’m saving up for a pretty special guy.”

Pekka’s cheeks flush, obscured by the general redness the summer day always coaxed out of his skin. He’s not sure if it’s because of the visual or of the promise those words hold, but either way, he wants to find out.

He stands, and extends a hand to Juuse. “Well, in the meantime, maybe we could head back to the hotel, while you tell me all about your special guy.”

Juuse takes the offered hand, and Pekka tugs him closer, leaning down as he whispers, “And see what else your mouth can do.”

Juuse whimpers softly, nodding his head. That, he could do.


	4. deficient & determined: quiet kneeling

“Hey, Daddy?” Juuse calls from where he’s sitting on the couch. He can hear Pekka moving around in the kitchen, probably putting away the dishes from lunch.

“Yeah, babe?” The sounds in the kitchen come to an abrupt halt.

“No rush, but when you get a second can you come here?” Juuse knows that Pekka’s probably going to come around the corner immediately anyway, but he always makes sure to give him the option to not be entirely at his beck and call. 

Sure enough, Pekka comes around the corner, standing at the arm of the couch. “Yeah?” 

“You sure you’re all set in there? This is going to take a little bit,” Juuse explains, and he sees the moment Pekka understands what’s happening. His mentor mutely nods, and Juuse gives him a smile. 

Pekka’s answering one is much shyer than before. 

Juuse grabs a pillow from next to him, setting it on the floor in front of him. “If you want to,” he offers, but Pekka kneels on the pillow without much other prompting. 

His hands curl around the backs of Juuse’s calves as Juuse slides his hand into his hair. “Very good,” he murmurs. “Come closer for me?” 

Pekka leans into the touch, resting his cheek on one of Juuse’s thighs and looking up at him, blue eyes searching for praise even as relaxation washed over him.

“So good for me, Daddy,” Juuse coos, smiling warmly at him. 

A blush darkens Pekka’s cheeks as he whispers, “I try, baby.” 

“Just relax for me,” the younger goalie encourages, settling his other hand on the back of his mentors neck. “Just relax.” 

And he does.


	5. deficient & determined: bath time

“Daddy?”

“Mmm?”

“Does that feel good?”

The older Finn just relaxes back into the younger ones touch, keeping his eyes closed. It was rare that they had a chance to even indulge in a scene like this, much less have the time for the drawn out aftercare. The rope marks on Pekka’s wrists were clear enough that when he ran his fingers over the skin there, he could feel every knot and braid that had been in the soft fabric.

Juuse chuckles behind him. “I’m going to take that as a yes.”

The shampoo Juuse was using smelled like aloe and cucumber, and the steam from the warm bath helped that smell to fill the room. With gentle fingers, Juuse continued to wash Pekka’s hair, playing with the soft, soapy strands and massaging his scalp as he went. He was sure that by now Pekka’s hair was more than clean, but this was about making his Daddy feel good just as much as it was about cleaning him up.

Eventually, once he’d teased and twisted most every lock of hair on Pekka’s head, Juuse filled a cup with warm water and began to clear the suds away. The feeling of rinsing off draws another hum from Pekka, and a smile from Juuse.

“There we go, nice and relaxed,” Juuse coos, clearing away the last of the suds. “What do you wanna do after this?”

“Just wanna sleep, baby.”

Juuse presses a gentle kiss to Pekka’s temple, not minding the water clinging to his skin. “Whatever you want, Daddy,” he murmurs, opening up the bottle of conditioner. This one matches the aloe and cucumber smell, and Juuse wastes little time working the cream into Pekka’s hair. He can see the tension of alertness leaving Pekka’s body, resulting in a boneless, humming goalie.

“So cute,” Juuse softly remarks, and he scrunches his nose in an attempt to silence his giggle at the resulting hum of protest from Pekka. “Shhhh, you know I’m right. It’s okay to be soft and cute, which you are, so it’s fine.”

He stands to rinse his hands in the sink, grabbing Pekka’s body wash and a washcloth before collapsing back down to kneel on the bathmat. Thank God they’d chosen to spring for the gel ones, that absorb your weight, because Juuse wasn’t sure he’d be able to kneel comfortably on raw tile for this long.

He swirls the dry washcloth around in the water in the tub, getting it soaked before pouring the body wash onto it. He works it up into a foam in his hands before gently starting at Pekka’s shoulders, washing in deep, even circles, pushing on the muscles there. He works his way down Pekka’s back, before coming around to the front and slowly working down his chest and torso, giggling as Pekka jerks when he goes over his ribs.

“Sorry, sorry. Always forget you’re ticklish.” When he looks up, he’s greeted with a slight pout from Pekka  that he has no choice but to kiss.

The resulting smile is well worth it.


	6. deficient & determined: forgive me

Juuse jogs up the stairs from the garage into Pekka’s house, unlocking the door with his spare key. At the impatient beep from the car, he gives a half-assed wave over his shoulder in thanks to Mikko for dropping him back off. Entering in by the kitchen, he pauses, hearing the shower upstairs going.

Not bothering to yell – knowing from experience that it just didn’t work – he kicks off his shoes and makes his way into the kitchen, trying to see what leftovers he could microwave in Pekka’s temporary absence.

Eventually, Pekka comes downstairs, by which point Juuse hadn’t been able to locate anything to eat. “Did you just stop cooking when I left?” he jokes. At the nonexistent response, he turns around and finds Pekka standing barefoot in his own kitchen, looking so out of place.

His hair was still wet from the shower, beads of moisture clinging to his hunched shoulders as he tries and fails to fake bravado. “Oh, hey, I wasn’t expecting you.” The forced casualness hurts Juuse almost as much as the gravel in his voice.

He steps closer, his hands resting in front of him, his fingers loosely curled in an aborted gesture. “You…your eyes are red…were you crying?” he asks softly, unsure of what to do with his hands.

Pekka hesitates for a moment too long.

“Did something happen?”

More silence meets this question.

Juuse gently reaches up and cups Pekka’s cheeks. He pulls him down slightly, while going up on his tiptoes. “What’s your color, babe?”

Pekka meets his eyes, unshed tears blurring the blue iris’. “Red.”

“Do you need your collar?”

A shaky nod is his response. Juuse takes initiative and curls his hand behind the back of Pekka’s neck, squeezing just enough to give him something to hold onto. Once Pekka relaxes into his hold, he starts to gently lead him back upstairs.

It takes 45 minutes, once Pekka has his collar on and is wrapped up in one of the good textured blankets, for him to finally calm down enough to speak again. Of course his first words are an apology, but Juuse brushes that away with kisses and words of comfort.

“I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart. You never do.”

Pekka just curls up against Juuse further, taking shaky breaths. Maybe one day, forgiveness wouldn’t rattle him so much.

He hoped that day was soon.


	7. deficient & determined: just breathe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning for this chapter: this takes place from pekka's pov as he goes through a panic attack/dissociative episode, including brief (extremely brief) suicide ideation, as well as literal trouble breathing. there is a happy ending through, thanks in a large part to juuse.

In the still, warm darkness, Pekka lays curled up on his side. He’s hiding from the lazy winter sunrise, hiding from the warm body on the other side of the bed, hiding from his coaches, his teammates, his fans. Pekka is hiding, and he feels all the more pathetic for it.

His play has been on again off again for far too long, and he finds himself drawn to the same ways of coping that he had before Juuse. Shutting himself off from his teammates, for one. Ignoring social media, for another, even though he hardly posted anything. Mechanically going through training and practice, leaving his mental game behind. He wouldn’t be surprised if he was giving up more starts to Juuse in the coming games, if not being pulled in favor of him.

These thoughts take advantage of the fact that he’s not yet managed to do anything by way of living yet in the day. Even though it’s 7:45am, he wonders why he wasn’t more productive yet today, why he hasn’t at least gotten up and  _done_  something with himself. His body still aches from the game last night, but he doesn’t see any sense in thinking that that meant hard work. They’d lost in overtime, a loss he blamed himself for.

He curls up a little tighter, ignoring the way it makes his quad twinge, and tries to keep his breathing quiet. Pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes, he tries to think positive, think the way that his therapist has told him is  _okay_  to direct towards yourself. And it works, for a little bit. But then he thinks to himself how pathetic it is that he has to use someone else’s words to make himself feel better, and it just drags him down further.

_Being under the covers is nice,_  he thinks to himself, in a vain attempt to reroute his thoughts.  _It’s dark, and quiet, and eventually it takes the oxygen away so you don’t have to continue being so worthless and a drain on everyone else. Isn’t that great?_

He is feeling sort of light headed, but he can’t tell if it’s because of the blankets or something else. Vaguely he feels someone shaking him, but maybe he’s just trembling by himself. It wouldn’t be the first time that that happened. But he should probably stop moving, if he doesn’t want to wake up Juuse. And he  _doesn’t_ , that’s the last thing he wants to do.

So he tries to fight against the movement, but that proves hard to do. Maybe someone else is actually shaking him? His chest feels kind of tight, but maybe it’s because he’s balled up so tight. He would try to unclench, but his body feels kind of locked in position. Maybe later, when he has more energy, he’ll spread out, but for now, he’s okay. He’ll make himself be okay.

Then Pekka swears he’s being thrown into a snowbank. Everything is cold and everything is white. Eventually, definition starts to filter in. He’s in his bed, still, but the covers have been pulled off of him. The shaking is still happening, but now he’s pretty much certain that it is him, but the hands on him are trying to help him ground himself.

Faintly, he hears some wheezing. Juuse should probably get that checked out, there’s no way he can play if he’s wheezing like that. But then he hears Juuse’s voice, and he sounds okay, so who could be wheezing?

“That’s it, come back for me. You’re okay, I promise you’re okay. Just breathe, babe, just breathe.” The words are familiar, and he tries to take the advice – but when he does, his lungs feel stiff, and  _that_  gets him panicking. Finally, he can move somewhat, and he rolls onto his arms, coughing and gasping as he tries to breathe. Juuse rubs a comforting hand down his back, and somewhere Pekka realizes that the wheezing was  _him_.

It takes a few minutes before Pekka can breathe again, before the floaters go away and he can actually focus on Juuse. He looks troubled, but relieved now that Pekka was more alert than before. “…How long was it?” he asks, softly.

“About an hour,” Juuse answers, his voice just as soft. “You only started moving a little bit in the last five minutes though, and at that point I…I just wanted to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself.”

Pekka nods, and diverts his gaze. “I…um…” He takes a breath, now that he can, and squeezes his fingers into the duvet. “I…was thinking about…my gameplay. And I felt…not good. So I just kind of…got stuck.” He knows that it’s not the most eloquent, but his brain still feels like mush, and he’s  _trying_.

Juuse, the sweetheart that he is, knows how to read between the lines. “I’m sorry that happened, babe. You know you can always wake me up if you’re having bad thoughts, right?” he insists, gently placing his hand on Pekka’s knee. “I promise I won’t yell or be mad.”

Pekka heaves a shaky sigh. “I…I know. Thank you. Um…can I have my collar now?” he asks softly, his voice trembling.

“I’d rather have your neck clear right now. Just for a little bit, until you calm down, okay?” Juuse murmurs. “I’ll collar you later, but I want to make sure you’re okay first. I don’t want you hurting.”

Pekka can feel his chest tightening again, but Juuse puts a hand on the back of his neck, and it helps to settle him.

“Shh, I’m not mad at you, babe. I just want you safe, okay? It would be irresponsible of me to do that right now,” Juuse explains. “But if you want, we can go downstairs and make some breakfast? If doing things with your hands might help?”

The suggestions sit right with Pekka. He can make up for his shit play with doing as Juuse says, and he can make Juuse proud and earn his collar back. He wants to prove himself to be good, so he looks at Juuse and nods. When he gets a smile and a kiss on the cheek in response, he feels infinitely more settled.


	8. boss & baby: a night out

Juuse is the Boss’ property.

(Not that Pekka would ever put that into words, but the sentiment is apparent. Juuse is his own person and can make his own decisions, but a slight against him is a slight against Pekka, a mistake very few can afford to make.)

But, like with all rare and prized possessions, they become distanced from their original purpose, and instead turn into a symbol. They’re hosting a few guests from Finland, that Pekka had been entertaining since they’d arrived the night prior. Juuse hadn’t made any appearances thus far, on Pekka’s request.

At first he’d wondered if it was because Pekka was ashamed of him, but that thought had been shut down rather quickly. Then, he’d been asked to dress to impress, and to come out to dinner with them. They’d be going to a restaurant of Pekka’s choosing, and they’d be arriving together.

He chose one of his favorite dresses, floor length and a deep blue to match Pekka’s tie. When he makes his way down the stairs to the foyer, where Pekka was waiting for him, he’s greeted with a low whistle. “You like?” he asks as he comes to the foot of the stairs.

Pekka makes a motion for him to turn around, and he does, revealing the low cut back of the dress. Juuse shivers as he feels Pekka’s fingers trailing up his bare skin, but he obediently stands still.

“You look stunning, little one,” Pekka murmurs, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the back of Juuse’s neck, before fastening a thin diamond choker around his neck. “Are you ready?”

Juuse touches the choker, still in disbelief that this is the turn his life took. “Do you think they’ll like me, Daddy?”

“I think they’ll adore you, sweetheart. Now, your chariot awaits,” he says, offering his arm. Juuse laughs and takes it. They get to the restaurant – one of the many Pekka controls – and slip in the side entrance. The table is filled, save for a chair at the head of the table, and one immediately to the chair’s left. They approach the table, and the meaningless chatter goes silent.

“Gentlemen, this is my Juuse. I do hope you’ll be on your best behavior,” Pekka says as he pulls out Juuse’s chair, letting him sit down. He introduces himself to the baby faced Finn next to him, finding out that his name is Olli and that he’s not much older than Juuse. They converse amicably for a few minutes. The food and wine flows freely, as does conversation. It’s relaxing for Juuse to be able to speak as much Finnish as he pleases. Even after his years in America, he still struggles with his accent when he speaks English, and it keeps him quiet. Now, he feels like he belongs.  

He also feels the way some of the older Finns further down the table keep looking at him throughout the meal. He’s torn about telling Pekka about it, but it appears that he’s noticed it enough himself.

“Some people can be so rude,” he mutters to Juuse, who puts his wine glass back down with a confused look.

“How do you mean, Daddy?”

“I can’t stand the way they’re looking at you. Who taught them any sort of manners?” Pekka says just loud enough for the offending parties to hear and quickly redirect their attention elsewhere. “I do hope that they know enough not to touch what isn’t theirs.”

“Of course, Daddy,” Juuse murmurs, sliding his hand over and taking Pekka’s fingers into his grip. “I don’t think they would try anything.”

“They better not, but I wouldn’t be opposed to showing them just who it is that you belong to, right sweetheart?” The possessive language is for the others, Juuse knows this, but he wouldn’t mind a reminder. He guides Pekka’s hand off the table and down to the slit in his dress, letting him feel his bare skin.

“I wouldn’t mind,” he murmurs, meeting Pekka’s gaze. His fingers trail higher, and Juuse can’t repress the shiver. Especially when he moves his hand to the inside of Juuse’s thigh.

It’s going to be a good night.


	9. boss & baby: shhhh

Juuse pretends not to know how much sway he has over the Family. He pretends not to know how much he means to the organization as a whole, and he pretends that he’s too young to know any of it. He shyly hides his English skills, blushing on cue, and keeps his mouth sealed tight against secrets others let slip around him.

He observes, but he doesn’t act.

But he knows how much he means to Pekka. With every dress, every choker, every meal, every palette and brush, he receives materialistic affirmation of Pekka’s devotion. With every moan, every kiss, every bruise, and every sigh, he receives an emotional affirmation that carries just as much weight in his heart as his Daddy’s black card does in his wallet.

He observes, and he acts on those observations.

Sometimes, though, these two desires conflict. He’ll be under Pekka on some Friday morning, sliding his hands down warm skin and opening his mouth to let out small noises of pleasure, when the phone will ring. Not Pekka’s phone for pleasure, nor Juuse’s phone for complete strangers or trusted friends, but Pekka’s work phone. And he’ll sigh, but pull back to check who it is, and Juuse will throw an arm over his eyes and will hope that it’s no one of consequence.

It will be a vain hope, because he will already have a pretty good idea of who is calling based on the little secrets he’d heard here and there. He’ll drum his nails on his stomach, exposed in the morning light, and he’ll listen to Pekka answering with his business voice. It’s awfully close to his bedroom voice, soft yet powerful, and it will inevitably get Juuse going again.

He’ll debate in his mind if this is a call he can afford to interrupt. He’s a smart boy, and he’ll come to a decision. If it’s not, he’ll wait it out, and see if they have more time before Pekka must go. If it is, however, he’ll push himself up to his knees and sidle over to where Pekka is talking on the phone.

He’ll kiss his neck, first, to test the waters. If he’s not pushed away, he’ll continue, down to his shoulder, and from there let his hands rove. Maybe he’ll tease at Pekka’s nipples first or maybe he’ll drag his nails over Pekka’s abs first, but either way, he will do both. Either way, he’ll keep working at his Daddy until he can reasonably slide his hand into Pekka’s boxers and move his fingers in such a way that he knows Pekka will be hanging up soon.

When he does, he’ll pin him to the bed with a low growl, admonishing, “You gotta stop doing that.”

To which Juuse will reply, “When it stops working, I will.”

And then they’ll be too busy to talk about anything of consequence for quite some time, and Juuse will feel a satisfaction he thinks he’ll never get tired of. And, maybe, he’ll offer some advice on the predicament over breakfast, with his Daddy’s marks fresh on his neck, peeking above his pink satin robe. Or, maybe he’ll just sit quietly and eat, crossing his ankles under the table and listening with his mouth full.

After all, he’s good at that.


	10. any verse: puppy time

Juuse’s barely containing the two wiggling puppies in his hands, but it’s a worthwhile struggle. He buries his face in their fur, praying that he’s not actually crying, but they’re just so pure. They’re puppies! They don’t care if they lost the cup last season! They’re dogs!

He hears laughter over his shoulder, and looks up, catching Pekka also with three puppies in his hands…but just his hands.

“I swear they want me to look small,” he says in Finnish, getting Pekka to laugh again.

“It’s not their fault if you are small.”

“But your hands are so much larger than mine! And they purposefully gave you the smaller dogs, just to show off how stupidly big you are,” Juuse counters.

Pekka snorts at that, and one of the puppies in his grasp starts whining. He gently presses a kiss to it’s forehead, cooing softly at it. “If it’s all part of some big conspiracy, tell Roman. Everyone knows it’s a captain’s duty to deal with such things.”

Juuse’s caught staring at Pekka with a mixture between heart eyes and a flat glare. “I refuse to continue this conversation with you.”

“Suit yourself. I suppose we can continue talking about how big my hands are at home,” Pekka teases.

He hears Pekka laughing as he retreats, and thinks that it’s only lucky for him that he has his hands full of puppies. Otherwise, he’d be giving him a very choice gesture.


	11. any verse: adulting time

It’s the closest thing to a lazy Sunday that either of them have gotten in a long while. They’d gone to their morning workout, then came back home and made brunch. Well, Pekka made brunch, and Juuse helped with menial tasks. After the meal, Pekka had gone off to his office space to deal with “bets and bills” as they called it, while Juuse laid on the couch, flipping through channels in a post-meal daze.

Eventually his boredom stirred him to move, and he sets about trying to find a suitable excuse to bother Pekka for. He winds up just going into the office anyway, figuring that he might as well get straight to the point of his visit.

The problem with this though, is that he hadn’t counted on Pekka wearing his glasses while he was working. Which, to be fair, shouldn’t have been an odd thought, but he still wanted some warning before stumbling into that.

He leans against the doorway, watching as Pekka clicks around on the laptop in front of him, his purple socked feet crossed beneath him on the center of a circle made of papers, with sticky notes labeled with various years. It’s color coded and organized and Juuse can’t help the little snort he lets out when he sees sticky notes across Pekka’s legs and highlighters tucked behind his ears.

Pekka looks up at the noise, his brow furrowed. “What that mean?” he asks, wiggling his knees a little as he asks.

“You’re too damn cute,” Juuse explains, shrugging a little.

Pekka rolls his eyes, but his cheeks still tint with a bit of a blush. “Oh you think so, huh?”

“Mmhmm. The glasses are very geek chic.”

“You don’t even know what that means,” Pekka grumbles, but sets the laptop aside, standing up. He cracks his back a little as he stretches, then comes over to Juuse’s side where he all but folds himself against Juuse.

“I think I do,” the smaller of the two counters, even as he pets Pekka’s hair, gently scratching at his scalp.

Pekka only grunts in answer.

Juuse grins; still cute.


	12. any verse: stretching time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by [this photo](http://78.media.tumblr.com/e3dc1168016872ab7d898d9208ec1792/tumblr_p1u1b2ddse1upvjyko2_540.jpg)

Goalie stretches are weird on principle. They go beyond the usual realm of stretches because their body needs to be a more or less controlled rubber band for at least 60 minutes of play, relying on reaction moreso than action, and the hope and prayer that nothing would go wrong in these contortions. Every goalie has their routine that they go through, that more or less stretches the same parts of the body.

Some have fun with it though, and Juuse is no exception. Maybe it’s because he’s less than 6’ tall, and he wants to push his body to the very edge and see if he can take it. So he’s flopped on his back on the floor, both of his feet almost touching the floor behind him. He closes his eyes and sticks his tongue out briefly to try to focus, to see if he can push it that last couple of inches further.

He hears people walking by, most chattering amongst themselves, before a shadow crosses over his face. Blinking his eyes open, he sees Pekka standing over him, which makes him grin. “How can I help you?” he asks, voice strained only slightly from the position his torso is in.

“I’m just trying to figure out if I should get the trainers over here or not,” Pekka replies, quirking an eyebrow up.

“Nah, I think I got it.” He adjusts so he’s supporting his lower back with his hands, dropping one leg towards the wall, leaving the other above his head. It frees up his ribcage a little bit, and he gets his wits about him to turn his grin into a smirk. “Why, is this concerning for you?”

“It will be if you keep this up,” Pekka mutters, tearing his gaze away from Juuse to see if anyone else is coming down the hallway.

Juuse pokes his thigh with his foot. “ _ Daddy _ , it’s okay if you can’t stretch like I can. You’ve got a young mind, not a young body.”

Pekka pinches his calf, but takes his leave, meandering down the hallway. “Just focus on getting ready for the game, Juuse.”

“Who said this was for the game?” Juuse mutters under his breath, letting his legs come together and relaxing his back down to the floor.

“I heard that!” Pekka snipes back. Juuse can tell from his tone that he’s a little flustered, and it makes him laugh out his reply.

“You were supposed to!” 

**Author's Note:**

> give a follow on [tumblr,](http://eddieluongo.tumblr.com/) mayhaps?


End file.
